


Heartbeat

by whoevencares



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Crying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Running Away, i forgot ian left and now it's dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoevencares/pseuds/whoevencares
Summary: Thump thump
Locking eyes with Dallon, he urgently shook his head. His eyes burned and he blinked to hold back tears. Damn it! Why now? He was supposed to be used to the chaos. In fact, last time he checked he loved it.(Brendon breaks down during a show and runs away. The following day he finds his way back to the safety of Dallon)





	

**Author's Note:**

> beta: @halseyschemicalromance !

Brendon couldn't wait to perform. He shuffled around behind the tall black curtains that draped around the stage because he couldn't stand still. The intense pre-show buzz vibrated through his spine, coursing into his lungs. 

Taking deep breaths usually calmed the buzz to a comfortable point, but today that just wasn't happening. He hadn't even drank his standard daily coffee, yet he felt like all the energy in the world was bundling up inside him.

"In ten you're on," A crackly voice instructed through his earpiece, "Gospel first then straight through to sins."

The strobe lights began and from the corner of his vision he could see Dallon carefully positioning a foot on the stage ready to jump up when it was time. He followed suit and lifted his shaking leg onto the step of the stage.

The heartbeat rung out. Brendon could hear blood rushing through veins pressed up against his ears.

_Thump thump_

Brendon couldn't tell whether that was the start of Gospel, or just his own heart any more. He suspected a bit of both.

Suddenly Before his mind could process it the bright lights flicked on, and Dallon, Kenny and Ian jumped up on stage. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't hear the music blasting in his earpiece. He couldn’t hear the screams of the crowd.

Silence.

_Thump thump_

Was he still in control? Why was everything so far away yet so close?

Locking eyes with Dallon (who was already on the stage), he urgently shook his head, hoping the other got his point. His eyes burned and he blinked to hold back tears.

"Y-o-u o-k-a-y?" Dallon mouthed with a tilted head.

Damn it! Why now? He was supposed to be used to this chaos. In fact, last time he checked he loved it.

Before Dallon and his worried gaze could see the tear slip out, he repositioned his body to be ready for attempted do-over. 

The lights momentarily switched off and the track started again.

"Come on Brendon. Just like every other time," He muttered to himself, taking slow breaths. Well - as slow as he could manage while standing in front of a couple thousand screaming people.

He takes a step on the stage and just as he's about to bring the microphone towards his mouth, everything becomes silent. No screaming. No music. No drums. Just the heartbeat.

He eyes rapidly flick around him, and all everyone's eyes are on him. The people are singing out the first lines and he's left with an open mouth and dry throat. He's at the center of a hurricane and there's nothing he can do.

_Thump thump_

Before the tears that have gathered in his eyes even manage to be squeezed out he's already running in the opposite direction. He doesn't even know the layout of the venue, he's just running. Running on pure instincts. Flight, that is, not fight.

"Brendon!" A faint voice calls from somewhere behind him. He keeps running.

He can't see a damn thing with the excessive amount of fluid dripping from his eyes. He's skidding round corners and slamming through doors.

Then, when he pushes past the last gate out into the open air, the fear dissipates away and out from his bones. He must have exited a back entrance, because all he can see is a dimly lit maze of alleyways.

He slows to a walk and that’s when it crashes down on him. Guilt. He let those thousands upon thousands of people down. He ruined their night. Not just that, but he let his band down. Oh shit.

The snot was mixing in with the tears and Brendon just let it drip, snot soaking his sleeve. The sky had darkened enough that he could see deep blue over the outside walls of the venue. All stars hidden from the pollution and chaotic lights of the city. 

Then he remembered - he has nothing. No phone. No money. No dignity. No nothing. He's too tired and too lost to do anything; and the inky midnight sky above him isn't doing much to help.

The exhaustion slowly trickles into his body through the fragile cracks and fractures. He supposes this is the last wave of emotion he'll be getting tonight. By this point he accepts that he is totally lost in the maze of alleyways, forever left to stare up at the sky as he sits on the curb.

He wants to shout at the sky and curse it for being so selfish. He wants to scream till his throat is raw and he's coughing up blood. He wants to give up.

Brendon can't see end of this dimly lit isolated street so to be honest, he doesn't really fucking care if a serial killer is staring straight back at him. Plus, his eyelids are starting to feel heavy and it's too hard to resist sleep at this stage. Curling himself on a patch of hidden grass, he relaxes his tense muscles and wonders what his life has come to.

 

===============

 

Brendon wakes up to a motorbike zooming past him and he's pissed. He leans up to go shout at the motherfucker for waking him up, but then he cracks open his eyes and has a near heart attack.

"Oh shit," he states on the topic of his situation as he comes to terms with the fact that he is wedged between a brick wall and a recycling bin on a patch of grass.

He looks down to his sleeve and sighs as he notices the crusted snot stuck to the wool. The jumper which he tried so hard to maintain the smell of home. Now he has to wash it. Well, what a fucking great way to start the day.

Brendon has a plan.

-Find a main street and get a taxi (hitchhiking is only allowed if things stoop that low)  
-Attempt to pronounce the Mexican hotel that he was supposed to stay at, accurate enough so that the driver understands it  
-Block **all** emotions to avoid more snot

The third one is much easier said than done. Within seconds of Brendon picking himself up of the ground the shame, guilt and tears hit him again. The disappointment. The fear.

===============

"Kenny, It's been four hours already. Do you not think we should just drive around for a bit to see if we can find him?" Dallon asks again, his voice clearly strained and his red-rimmed eyes upset.

"He's okay. Trust me, he'll find his way back soon enough," Kenny replies with an arm round Dallon's back.

Both Dallon and Kenny were curled up tightly on the hotel sofa staring intently at the wall. Deep down, neither of them knew if things would turn out okay, but they kept composure and held their heads up. Ian was laying down dead to the world in an awkward position on top of the duvet covers fast asleep.

It feels like the longest night of his life.

 

===============

 

Somewhere between Dallon falling asleep on the sofa with Kenny and Ian on the bed, and morning, He hears a scuff at the door.

He can't tell whether it's just his tired mind making up noises or if there is actually someone at the door, so he pulls himself up quietly and pads over to the door using the wall to guide him.

"Brendon?" He murmurs at the blurry person standing in front of him as the light adjusts.

"Sorry, Just me, Zack."

"Oh, sorry. You woke me up so uh…anyway. Why are you here?" Dallon croaks.

"Well actual-" Zack begins.

"Wait! Did you find Bren? Is he okay? Where is he now?" Dallon spurts out at an alarming rate for someone who was in deep sleep minutes before.

Zach lets out a sigh before he talks. "Brendon still hasn't come back, but I'm sure he's fine. He's a clever guy. I've got his wallet and phone so at least those items are safe…I guess?"

"How does a 'oh so clever' guy fucking leave his entire inventory behind?" Dallon almost shouts back at Zack.

Zach looks at Dallon and says nothing. Dallon swallows the build up of emotions back down and drops his eyes down. "Zack, look I'm sorry. Just, make sure he's safe okay?"

Dallon thinks to himself that either its far too late at night, or far too early in the morning to be having this conversation.

"I promise I will. This is just as hard as it is for me as it is for you" Zach replies sincerely. He takes a moment before remembering why he's here. "I just wanted to know if you guys wanted to go to your rooms. I've got your room keys and your bags have been put in the rooms."

"I'll take mine, but Kenny and Ian are sleeping so I'd just wait till morning."

"Beauty sleep am I right," Zach jokes and Dallon forces a laugh despite the heavy cloud hovering above them both.

 

===============

 

"Dal'?"

He's still dreaming of deep in a land of intricate twisted forests when he's gently shaken awake. The sun is streaming through the open curtains but Dallon shuts his eyes and turns his face into the pillow.

"Too early," Dallon mumbles into the pillow while pulling the duvet over his head.

"It's me."

Then Dallon remembers. In less than a second the duvet is at the end of the bed and the man engulfs Brendon in a hug.

"You left me."

"I-I'm sorry. Will y-you forgive me?" Brendon cries into Dallon's warm shoulder. "I-I don't know w-why it h-happened I j-just."

"Shh," Dallon whispers, rubbing gentle repetitive patterns into Brendon's back. "I don't need to forgive you for anything."

"B-But I let y-you down and a-all those p-people" Brendon whimpers, still hiding in the safety of Dallon, "A-and you and the b-band. All those p-people Dal"

"Brendon," Dallon speaks seriously. He lifts up the other's head by his jaw, and making sure Brendon's focusing, he continues. "Don't think like that. Everyone has their off days and that's okay. Nobody's mad at you. Nobody hates you. We can reschedule the show okay."

"S-sorry Dal" Brendon sighs. Dallon pulls him back against his chest and presses a kiss on the top of his head.

They lie like that for a while, before moving.

"Hey, does breakfast sound good?"

"Sure," Brendon hums. "I need to shower though. I think I smell like a bin…oops."

"Go for it. But then breakfast okay?"

 

fin

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I actually ship Ryden more than Brallon, but a lil mixture n'ver hurt no one. Also yeah yeah, I didn't really make them a couple, but I'm bad at writing lovey dovey stuff. 
> 
> Also I think hurt!bren is on the decline, but I felt pretty strong emotion when I had the dream so I was like "Fuck it", imma live my life. 
> 
> The characterisation in this is really off, sorry.
> 
> Ps: Theres a major flaw in this fic. Brendon doesn’t have dallon's room key lol
> 
> Drinking game: take a shot everytime I write 'just'


End file.
